November 24, 1914.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
435
UNRECORDED SCENES FROM THE HISTORY OF THE WAR.
Public speakers attend a class for the purpose of learning to pronounce correctly the phrase: "We shall not sheathe the sword until, etc., etc."
Fan, the hunt terrier, runs with the pack,
A little white bitch with a patch on her back;
She runs with the pack as her ancestors ran—
We're an old-fashioned lot here and breed 'em like Fan;
Round of skull, harsh of coat, game and little and low,
The same as we bred sixty seasons ago.
A little white bitch with a patch on her back;
She runs with the pack as her ancestors ran—
We're an old-fashioned lot here and breed 'em like Fan;
Round of skull, harsh of coat, game and little and low,
The same as we bred sixty seasons ago.
So she's harder than nails, and she's nothing to learn
From her scarred little snout to her cropped little stern,
And she hops along gaily, in spite of her size,
With twenty-four couples of big badger-pyes:
'Tis slow, but 'tis sure is the old white and grey,
And 'twill sing to a fox for a whole winter day.
From her scarred little snout to her cropped little stern,
And she hops along gaily, in spite of her size,
With twenty-four couples of big badger-pyes:
'Tis slow, but 'tis sure is the old white and grey,
And 'twill sing to a fox for a whole winter day.
Last year at Rook's Rough, just as Ben put 'em in,
'Twas Fan found the rogue who was curled in the whin;
She pounced at his brush with a drive and a snap,
"Yip-Yap, boys," she told 'em, "I've found him, Yip-Yap;"
And they put down their noses and sung to his line
Away down the valley most tuneful and fine.
'Twas Fan found the rogue who was curled in the whin;
She pounced at his brush with a drive and a snap,
"Yip-Yap, boys," she told 'em, "I've found him, Yip-Yap;"
And they put down their noses and sung to his line
Away down the valley most tuneful and fine.
'Twas a point of ten miles and a kill in the dark
That scared the cock pheasants in Fallowfield Park,
And into the worry flew Fan like a shot
And snatched the tit-bit that old Rummage had got;
Eloop, little Fan with the patch on her back,
She broke up the fox with the best of the pack.
That scared the cock pheasants in Fallowfield Park,
And into the worry flew Fan like a shot
And snatched the tit-bit that old Rummage had got;
Eloop, little Fan with the patch on her back,
She broke up the fox with the best of the pack.
[The Hospital for Sick Children in Great Ormond Street, where many Belgian children are now being cared for, is in very urgent need of funds to enable it to maintain its beneficent work. The Treasurer will gladly receive and acknowledge any subscriptions that may be sent.]
O generous hearts that freely give,
Nor heed the lessening of your store,
So but our well-loved land may live,
Much have you given—give once more!
Nor heed the lessening of your store,
So but our well-loved land may live,
Much have you given—give once more!
For little children spent with toil,
For little children worn with pain,
I ask a gift of healing oil—
Say, shall I ask for it in vain?
For little children worn with pain,
I ask a gift of healing oil—
Say, shall I ask for it in vain?
For, since our days are filled with woe,
And all the paths are dark and chill,
This thought may cheer us as we go,
And bring us light and comfort still;
And all the paths are dark and chill,
This thought may cheer us as we go,
And bring us light and comfort still;
This, this may stay our faltering feet,
And this our mournful minds beguile:—
We helped some little heart to beat
And taught some little face to smile.
R. C. L
And this our mournful minds beguile:—
We helped some little heart to beat
And taught some little face to smile.
R. C. L
"Monitors at work off Knocke," says The Daily Mail, and by way of reply the Germans knocked off work.
